∞ [ action post ]

[fatespoken]

✏ LOGGING: This is your thread for logging, whether spontaneous or plot-related, silly or serious. His normal haunts include shifts at the Blue Light, various city bars, cafes, random encounters, etc. Prose preferred, [] are fine too.

✉ TO SET UP: Just drop me a line at aeloriax[at]gmail.com or Y!M/AIM (listed in the post below) to give me a heads-up. I'm open to anything as long as it fits ICly.

TRACKING:
March;
Peter & Amory [ Blue Light ] ✯ this is a song lyric [ in progress ]

Comments

keep it all from sympathy / your day today your dignity

[fatespoken]

It's a graceless fall to the floor, knees collapsing in contact with the ground, palms slapped against soiled carpet as Amory tries to balance himself. How pathetic to be prostrated before the Telmarine, and so it's in a second that he forces his legs beneath him, a jerky shift to a kneel. It's all too much movement for a head that's already swimming, thudding, shattering as though those brights have reversed themselves and now bore into his skull. But despite the haze, Amory knows what, who must have played cushion for that second impact by the sudden collapse and clatter of sound that follows. However, Amory doesn't feel bad for Chase. He doesn't hear the chorus of the jury around him. There's nothing to nothing to feel besides the resounding shudder of a throbbing eye and pounding head, along with the sickness sliding up his chest as he folds his head into his palms. Another pathetic position, Amory realizes, but at this very moment, regardless of the minutes before, he doesn't give a damn.

He knows he deserved it.

He deserved it and more because Amory is not blind to the way he is acting or to the anger belying Caspian's pain. One needs to be perceptive to be able to pull together facets of a character so as to ground a farce in reality, but even fine-tuned perception isn't necessary to sense something shadowing Caspian's rage. An emotion of a softer shade, inlaid in a voice losing its sharper edge. In a man who would raise his fists on behalf of another. On behalf of Peter Pevensie.

Amory's thoughts meet contradiction in silence, contradiction in the hollow of his chest, and the words of the King fall like dead weights.